


Behind the Flash

by gremlins-came-and-got-me (Scared_Beings_in_the_Dark)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Established Sterek - Freeform, Laura learns not to be a bully, M/M, Slight homophobia (mentioned although no one in story is)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2017-06-26
Packaged: 2018-11-19 05:50:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11307012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scared_Beings_in_the_Dark/pseuds/gremlins-came-and-got-me
Summary: “Now, I know what everyone wants me to ask,” Erica says, and Derek nods. “The subject of your newest series, Stiles Stilinski. How did you meet, why did you choose him for a muse, what was it like shooting him? All these questions and more, but first, Derek, when did you first get into photography?” Erica adjusts her legs, uncrossing and then re-crossing them while Derek fiddles with his mic. At a sharp look from her, he settles back in his chair, propping a foot onto his knee.Stiles prepped with him. He’s got this.--Or:World Renowned photographer Derek Hale is being interviewed about his latest showing, the series of photographs depicting his relationship with professional pole dancer Stiles Stilinski.





	Behind the Flash

**Author's Note:**

> This is my pinch hit for [5inbinary](http://5inbinary.tumblr.com/)'s wonderful art that inspired this piece (Thanks to the artist for sharing it).  
> [Go check it out](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11307369)! It's awesome and I love it!  
> A big thank you to the Sterek Reverse Bang mods for doing all that they did. And thank you to my beta, TLM, who (although she still knows nothing about Teen Wolf) offered to read this story and provide feedback.

* * *

The studio is larger than Derek expected, and he tries not to gawk at it. It’s nothing like his gallery showings; hardwood floors with a round blue rug in front of two chairs. Behind the three cameras, left, center, and right, there is an audience: a group of real people who watch every error happen. This was a mistake. How on earth did he ever let his boyfriend talk him into this? He needs to go, needs to leave before he makes a giant fool of himself. Before he can fully work himself into a panic, the host, Erica Reyes, grabs his hand and shakes it. She’s a vivacious blonde with ruby red lips and warm brown eyes and dressed in a simple black wrap dress paired with low heels. She’s gorgeous and at ease and her smile helps calm him some. She indicates for him to take the elegant armchair on the left while she sinks into her own navy blue plush seat. She shakes out her cue cards and turns to the middle camera.

“Welcome back,” she says cheerily. “This is my guest today, world renowned and widely decorated photographer, Derek Hale. You may remember him as ‘that guy with the art exhibit about that other guy, the pole dancer.’” The audience laughs dutifully.

Derek waves at the camera, at the audience, smiling as painlessly as he can. Large crowds and unfamiliar situations still make his heart race and his palms sweat.

“Thank you for having me,” he says smoothly, and Erica smiles, so it was the right thing to say (Stiles thought so, but Stiles has less social anxiety than Derek, so he thinks ordering a sandwich is stressful but talking about his passion is not, go figure).

“Now, I know what everyone wants me to ask,” Erica says, and Derek nods. “The subject of your newest series, Stiles Stilinski. How did you meet, why did you choose him for a muse, what was it like shooting him? All these questions and more, but first, Derek, when did you first get into photography?” Erica adjusts her legs, uncrossing and then re-crossing them while Derek fiddles with his mic. At a sharp look from her, he settles back in his chair, propping a foot onto his knee.

Stiles prepped with him. He’s got this.

“I took my first photograph in first grade. You know how some parents are pictures every year, fancy outfits, the whole shebang?”

Erica nods.

“Well, I was that way. My dad gave me one of those disposable camera, the one where you’d have to roll the wheel just to move the film. When those pictures were developed, I was so disappointed in myself for how out of focus and frankly terrible they were.”

“You were six?”

Derek nods. “I was.” He laughs a little, and it sounds depreciating. Erica gives him another sharp look, and he shrugs apologetically. “After that, my dad signed me up for photography lessons with a friend of his, and I turned into a little terror, always directing everyone on what to do and how to pose.

“By the time I was in junior high, my sisters hated me. I almost made us late for the bus on the first day because I couldn’t take the perfect picture. In many ways, that’s when my natural talent took over.”

Derek smiles, private.

He met Stiles on the bus. One of the bullies, a kid named Aiden or Ethan, stole his camera right as he sat down, and it was passed around by all the kids, even Laura, until it came to Stiles and he stuffed it deep in his backpack.

He gave it back on the front steps of the school and made Derek promise to keep it safe.

The following week, Stiles transferred away, and Derek’s heart was broken. The only picture he’d managed to take of Stiles was of the boy leaning against the stop sign at the end of Derek’s block. That picture made its way to the cigar box where Derek stored his most precious keepsakes.

“I threw myself into it, taking pictures of anything and everything. I kept posing people and realizing that they were more human if I let them act as themselves.” One of his earlier submissions flashes on the green screen behind them. Even though Derek can’t see what the television audience will see, the monitor off to the side of the middle cameraman shows which photo they picked. He surreptitiously leans closer for a better look.

“Now this one was posed?” Erica asks, and she’s fighting back laughter, Derek knows she is. He’s having a hard time not laughing himself

“Yes,” he says. “My poor sister, Laura, was the subject of a lot of unflattering pictures.” This particular one, Derek directed her to sit poolside, feet dangling, arms arranged just so. He’d even picked out the one-piece bathing suit for her to wear. Orange was so not her color.

The next picture that goes to the green screen is the exact opposite: where Laura was stiff, now she’s grace. Her head is back and she’s laughing. She has changed into a neon green bikini that flatters her.

“I needed to change the film in my camera,” Derek explains. “I came back to the pool to find this, and without thinking I snapped a picture. Laura wanted to kill me forever until the film was developed. She actually had me take her senior pictures for the yearbook.”

“Then the career happened?”

Derek laughs. “Yes, in a way. My style changed and I was no longer the controlling picture-snapper my family had come to hate. Instead, I became more spontaneous, more natural. I graduated with a degree in photographic studies.”

“You won several awards while at college,” Erica prompts. Derek nods.

“And then you met Stiles Stilinski.”

“Yes.”

Erica uncrosses her legs, leans forward and winks conspiratorially at Derek. “How did you meet Stiles?”

“Well, now, that’s a good story,” Derek says, settling back in his chair.

 

_“Come on, Derek, you can’t be afraid of human interaction forever,” Laura teases. Derek scowls at her._

_“I am not afraid of human interaction,” he says. “I just prefer not to be around large crowds.”_

_His fingers itch to snap a picture of her throwing her head back and laughing at him, but his camera is still locked away in Cora’s safe._

_Instead, he huffs and slumps into the passenger seat. He buckles his seatbelt and then crosses his arms. He doesn’t have to be happy about his sister dragging him out in public, but he can at least enjoy the fact that they are going to see a show he’s been gushing over for at least a few years now._

_“Ready to see the extreme strippers?” Laura asks._

_“They’re not strippers!” Derek shoots Laura a scandalous look. “Why would you even—? You know what, I don’t even care. Just keep your mouth shut and don’t insult them.”_

_“Someone has a crush!” Laura sing-songs, and Derek really wishes Cora had been available. She at least wouldn’t publicly humiliate him._

_“Fine, yes,” he grits out. “Please, please, don’t embarrass me. Laura, this is me begging you. Please let me enjoy tonight as much as I can and don’t make fun of me.”_

_“Sure, yeah,” Laura says distracted, immediately yelling insults at a dark blue pickup truck that cuts them off._

_The rest of the drive is uneventful and Laura is able to park relatively close to the front doors. Derek barely waits for her to put the Camaro in park before he scrambles out and books it for the ticket checker._

_He sinks into his seat and stares up at the stage. He barely notices Laura dropping next to him because the lights fade down and the emcee pops up on stage._

_Derek only really cares about the third act because that’s when the performer he wants to see is on. Stiles Stilinski, professional pole acrobat and unofficial parkour champion._

_The closer they get to the event, the more nervous Derek becomes. There’s a meet and greet afterward that he paid extra for, but he doesn’t know if he should attend since he doesn’t know if Stiles even remembers him. After all, Laura doesn’t remember that day on the bus with his camera and she participated._

_A brief intermission after the second dancer allows Derek to go have a mini freak out in the men’s room before he returns to his seat where Laura makes him hold the licorice and popcorn she smuggled in with her._

_“This is actually really cool,” she admits through a mouthful of semi-chewed food. Derek wrinkles his nose at her._

_“Why do you always assume everything I’m interested in is boring or lame?” he asks. The lights are dimmed again before she can respond, and the whole arena starts roaring. Derek would too, but Laura is looking around in confusion. Serves her right for not reading the flyers in his room like she usually does._

_“Is that Stiles Stilinski?” she hisses in his ear when Stiles takes a bow on stage before he wraps his hands around the first of the two poles, cartwheeling vertically so that he’s now gripping the pole with his feet. “Is that why you wanted to come here so bad? You’ve still got a boner for him?”_

_Derek claps a hand over her mouth. “You promised me you wouldn’t make fun of me. Just let me enjoy this here and now and then you can hurt me on the way home.” He pulls his hand away before she can lick his palm._

_Out of the corner of his eye, he notices her frowning at him. Whatever. It needed to be said. He’s tired of Laura bullying him. It’s been going on for twenty years (at least, that Derek has been aware of), and that is twenty years too long._

_It’s hard to concentrate on Stiles’ performance with Laura seething next to him, but Derek manages to at least pay enough attention that he is suitably impressed. Stiles is very flexible and graceful and he performs gravity-defying stunts with a smile._

_Immediately after the applause for Stiles dies down, Laura grabs Derek’s hand and tries to drag him out of his seat._

_“No, wait, the show’s not over,” Derek protests, louder than he means to._

_“I don’t care. I’m going now. Since I drove you, you have to come with me.”_

_Someone from the row behind them leans forward and says, “Hey, lady. Leave him alone. He wants to stay. You can go.”_

_Laura huffs, turns back to growl at the stranger, and recoils. “Scott McCall?”_

_The shock of seeing Scott wears off quickly. After all, although Scott is a big-name director of cinematography—Derek has his latest three movies on his shelf—he is still a friend of Stiles’ and as such it is not a surprise that he is here at a show featuring Stiles. Derek only hopes that he can compete with the fact that Stiles will have people he knows around him and it might make Derek’s not unimpressive social anxiety (his ‘fear of human interaction’) spike._

_The way Laura keeps growling and glaring, Derek knows she’s going to leave soon, and she is serious about dragging him home. She’s done it before._

_“Scott can make sure I’m okay,” Derek says. Wants to add, “You never do,” but he’s already pissed her off once. And once in a night is enough for a lifetime. He’ll be lucky if_ all _she does is leave._

_“Sure,” Scott agrees amiably. “Now, either go or sit down ‘cause the next act is about to begin.”_

_Laura sits for a few moments before leaning over and pinching Derek’s arm hard. “Remember this moment because you won’t get another one in a long time,” she says before storming out. Derek stares after her dumbfounded._

_“Hey,” Scott says, sympathetically, “at least you still get to go to the meet and greet, right?”_

_“Yeah,” Derek says, brightening at the realization that Laura has truly left him here after her bitch-out. “I do.”_

_The rest of the show, he barely pays attention, too focused on the fact that he’ll get to see Stiles again. He wonders if Stiles remembers him._

 

“And did he?” Erica interrupts Derek’s musing. He startles, smiling and shaking his head.

“Not at all.”

 

_“So,” Stiles says over hamburgers a week after his show. “I’m looking for a professional photographer to shoot some stuff for the website. Interested?”_

_Derek takes a careful pull on his straw while he mulls it over. He knows he wants to date Stiles, not get involved with his side business of running a site for amateur parkour masters, of which Stiles is the self-elected leader._

_“I want to do some PSAs, y’know safety and things like that.”_

_“And you think they would be better received if they were pasted over shots of your face?”_

_“Okay, that’s fair,” Stiles says, grinning. “I already have Scott filming me when I go out running. Why not have some stills of it too?”_

_Derek rubs the bridge of his nose. “Stiles, do you know the intense setup it takes to capture a moment like that?” Really, Stiles does all his choreography and lets Scott direct him, and he’s expecting Derek to, what, be able to miraculously get the shot without careful planning? That’s just irresponsible._

_“Well, according to your sister’s blog, you are fantastic at taking spontaneous pictures.”_

_Derek is familiar with Cora’s blog. She uses pictures he gives her to showcase her ‘feelings’ or whatever. A lot of them focus primarily on random moments that Derek just so happened to catch in the moment and got his camera up in time to snap a few shots of it. Like, Laura in her bikini or later same that day, Cora and her ice cream falling off the cone._

_“Are you seriously hiring me based on a seventeen-year-old’s Tumblr blog?” Derek asks incredulous._

_Stiles at least has the grace to blush. “Yes?” he says._

_Derek frowns. “I’m flattered,” he says._

_Stiles snorts. “Coulda fooled me.”_

_“But,” Derek continues, “I really don’t think I’m the person for the job.”_

_“And why not?” Stiles demands, waving a half-eaten fry at Derek’s face. “You are perfect for the job! I’ll pay you and everything!”_

_“I don’t want your money,” Derek says._

_“Then what? What can I offer you so that you take pictures of me that make me look slightly presentable?”_

_Derek wonders, Is it really that easy? “I want to go on an actual date with you,” he says._

_Stiles stares at him gobsmacked._

_“No, really. I want to date you,” Derek says, before he runs out of gumption. He can already feel his hands beginning to shake. “I like you, Stiles.”_

_“You don’t even know me,” Stiles counters, and he sounds angry._

_“True,” Derek says. “But I want to.”_

_“No, you don’t,” Stiles says, softly. And,_ oh _, he’s just as shy and lacking in confidence as Derek is for all the praise the world heaps on them._

_“I really, really do,” he says, reaching out to place his hand palm-up next to Stiles’. Stiles stares at it for a long moment before carefully cleaning the grease from the fries off his fingers. When his hand touches Derek, it feels right in a way that Derek doesn’t think he’s ever known, not since Stiles handed him his camera with a quick smile and a laugh._

_“Maybe I do too,” Stiles whispers, leaning close, closer, closest until all that separates them is—_

 

“Did you take pictures for his website?” Erica asks, and Derek shakes the memory from his head.

“I did,” he confirms. “Some of my best work. I actually won a minor award for that photo of Stiles mid-leap.”

The little monitor beside the cameraman obediently displays the image, and Derek studies it for a minute, still pleased with how graceful and still Stiles looks while it’s obvious he’s in motion. His pole acrobatics are almost more impressive, and yes, Derek has photographed him during competition too. That’s different. Stiles has complete body control and can make it seem like he’s in the middle of moving when really he’s holding still.

The image switches to some of Derek’s more recent work, what his gallery showing is featuring.

Erica uses a pointer hidden by her leg to click through the slideshow of photographs he and Stiles picked out until she stops on one of  Derek and Stiles sitting on Derek’s mom’s couch, Derek staring horrified down at a pile of blue and white glitter while Stiles held an upside down box over his head.

“My sister Cora actually took that picture,” Derek explains. “It was a couple of years ago.”

 

_It’s the thought that counts, Derek thinks, glaring down at the large box of confetti. Laura handing it to him with an apology was honestly the most disconcerting thing about this whole birthday. Next to him, Stiles hooks his chin over his shoulder and grins down at the mess of glittery paper._

_“Any chance there’s something awesome in there?” he asks._

_“Fuck you, Stilinski,” Laura snaps. “The whole thing is awesome.”_

_“It really is,” Derek says. “Thank you.” It’s everything he ever wanted from Laura: an apology for how she has mistreated him through the years. He just wishes that it hadn’t taken him saying something hurtful to her for her to finally see what she was doing wrong. And that she hadn’t stewed on it for months._

_“I mean, it’s nice and all if you really like messes,” Stiles says right before he upends the damn box all over Mom’s shag carpet. Derek stares wide-eyed at the pile while Stiles crows gleefully and grabs the object he somehow spotted amidst the mess of crap._

_It’s a plain envelope. And if Derek isn’t mistaken, it has pictures in it. He tries to grab it from Stiles’ grip but his boyfriend won’t let him._

_“What’s this?” he asks, grinning as he tears it open. His smile fades though as the pictures, Stiles posed against the stop sign just down the block, Stiles and Derek smiling at each other before Stiles went home right before he moved away, are revealed._

_“Derek?” he asks._

_Derek sighs, takes the pictures from Stiles._ Thanks, Laura _, he thinks not without some bitterness. “We knew each other in middle school,” he explains. “When I heard about your competitions, I realized I wanted to see you again. Then we reconnected after the show in August, and things progressed.”_

_“You idiot,” Stiles says, and Derek frowns at him. “No, not like that. I can’t believe that we actually used to know each other and you didn’t tell me that.”_

_“I thought you knew,” Derek says, small._

_Stiles pauses, and his forehead creases the way it does when he’s thinking. “You’re right,” he finally says. “I should have known.” He studies the pictures critically. “Well, you’ve definitely improved your focus, babe.”_

_Derek does not hit him._

 

“Is that when you planned your gallery showing?” Erica asks.

“No, actually, that was my birthday, the first one Stiles and I celebrated as a couple.”

The audience makes a shocked sound, and Derek glances up quickly. Erica smiles encouragingly at him. “We don’t often get artists who collaborate so thoroughly that are also in an out relationship.”

“There’s nothing ‘out’ about it,” Derek says, a bit miffed at her wording. “Just because we are dating does not mean that we have to hide our relationship or announce it wherever we go. We’ve been together for almost three years now, and honestly, no one cares at this point.”

That’s not true, Derek and Stiles have both faced backlash in their professions because of their sexuality, but the people that matter to them do not care.

Derek’s gallery manager specifically believes that the exposure of their relationship will help with publicity for the showing. Stiles gave his blessing for Derek to reveal the nature of their relationship (“Well, maybe don’t reveal everything we do,” Stiles had said nervously. “When have you ever known me to say more than what was needed?” Derek had responded).

“Is Stiles the perfect muse?” Erica waves at the camera and the picture changes to Stiles and Derek holding hands while watching the sun rise.

“Not always,” Derek admits, quietly. “This is a timed picture, and it took forever to get it right.” Mostly because Derek was unfamiliar with using a timer, preferring instead to be behind the camera, clicking away, but Stiles wanted this photograph for his upcoming biography. And who was Derek to deny the love of his life what he wanted. “I’m not the easiest person to live or work with, so I thank every day that I still get to wake up to Stiles’ face, to his love.”

Instead of more shock, the audience _aw_ s, and Derek knows it’s a cue (he saw the giant sign leaning against a door on his way in earlier).

“It’s time for a quick word from our sponsors,” Erica announces. “When we come back, more questions for Derek.” The audience claps them out.

Derek remains sitting, fiddling with his cuffs. He doesn’t know what they do during commercial breaks. He guesses this is when they take a drink or something. Indeed, a tall young man with a mop of curls and bright, intelligent eyes, stumbles onto set and hands Erica a sealed bottle of water. He offers Derek one too, and Derek accepts.

Derek fingers itch and he makes an aborted grab for where he usually keeps his camera strapped to his hip. But, Stiles has his camera. He’d justified leaving it at home by saying Derek didn’t need to be distracted during his talk show.

If he had his camera, he’d shoot the studio. In the corner by the lighting rack, he can see a beautiful contrast waiting for someone to capture it. And Erica, sitting primly, sipping at her water would make a wonderful candid. Even the intern with the water relaxing by the wall would have a great portrait. But, a promise is a promise, and Derek makes himself take a sip of the water, screw the cap back on, and set it on the little side table between his and Erica’s seats.

Usually, Stiles is the one to make the tours. Derek has all Stiles’ interviews saved to a disc. He’d been a little hurt when Stiles hadn’t said anything about recording Derek’s interview, but then again, it’s not supposed to air for two weeks, coinciding with the opening of his showing.

The director of Erica’s show, a larger man with broad shoulders and a shaved head and kind eyes holds up his hand, folding down fingers as he says, “And we’re back in five-four-three.”

Two and one are silent, and Erica clears her throat a little to draw Derek’s attention back to her.

“Welcome back,” she says warmly. “As you can see, we’re still talking with Derek Hale.” She grins, patting at Derek’s hand. He stares down at her nails, red like her lips. “So, Derek, tell us, how did you settle on Stiles Stilinski as the muse for your art show?”

He clears his throat awkwardly. “It came to me?”

Erica narrows her eyes at him, as if to say, ‘Try again.’

Derek rubs at the back of his neck. “I can’t really say how I settled on the idea.” Erica pouts at him and the audience makes sounds of disappointment. “But,” he continues, “I knew I wanted the world to love Stiles as much as I do. How better to show that than photographing the moments that make up the man I love?”

“Nothing explicit?” Erica asks, a strange timbre to her voice.

“No,” Derek says. “Nothing explicit.” Not exactly. Not that Lydia, his agent, hadn’t tried. Derek had even taken some pictures. He still had the prints hidden in a shoebox under the bed just waiting for the right moment. The photo shoot had been almost perfect, but…Derek might be ready but Stiles probably isn’t. It’s something they have to talk about.

 

_Stiles sits up. “I’m cold,” he announces. “Any chance you’re going to cuddle me soon?”_

_Derek grunts and snaps another few pictures but the light is all wrong. He shakes his head. “Sorry. It’s not working right now. Wanna get dressed and get waffles?”_

_Stiles flops down on the bed and claps his hands over his eyes. He groans loud and long. “That is_ not _what I want to do and you know it,” he says._

_“And what would you rather do?” Derek asks mildly as he sets the camera on the side table and changes the roll of film. Stiles drapes over his back, chin digging into Derek’s bare skin (“If I can’t have clothes, neither can you.”)._

_“Well, we’re already naked,” Stiles points out. “What usually happens when we’re naked?”_

_“We sleep?” Derek knows he’s being dense, and it’s irritating Stiles, but the showing is coming up and why he let Stiles and Lydia talk him into doing it, he has no clue. “Do you need to take a nap?” He reaches for the camera again. He doesn’t have a picture of Stiles sleeping yet. It would make a good addition to his collection. Stiles sleeps with limbs akimbo and his face smushed into a pillow. It’s adorable._

_“Sleep, hmm,” Stiles hums and then he licks down Derek’s back, making him shudder. “Yeah, sleep. Sleep is fine. But, we need to do something else first.”_

_He jerks Derek backward and straddles his hips. Then, he leans down and kisses him thoroughly._

_“Yeah,” he says again, and Derek nods dumbly. This is so much better than sleeping or shooting pictures._

_Later, after a brief clean up, Stiles grabs the camera and takes a picture, squinting into the lens while Derek throws an arm over his face. Somehow, Derek knows, that picture will end up in the showcase._

 

“For you,” Erica says, pulling Derek back to the present. The intern shoves a bouquet of pink roses at him. Derek stares at them, uncomprehending. When the intern shakes them, he grabs them, still staring at them.

Distantly, he hears Erica ask if he’s okay.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine,” he hears himself say. “These are my favorite,” he adds. “But there’s no card.”

He lifts them to his nose and inhales deeply. He can still smell the slight perfume of the flowers and the itchy pollen tickling his nostrils. Then, he conscientiously sets them aside on the table with his mostly-full water bottle.

“No card, huh?” Erica asks. “Are you sure?”

Derek nods, but he checks again, separating the stems enough to see that there is nothing else in there. He turns back to tell Erica as much, even opens his mouth, but from the corner of his eye, he sees Stiles.

Derek turns his head so fast he’s surprised his neck doesn’t crack. Certainly, he gets a little dizzy from it (but that might just be his heart pounding in his chest).

Stiles is down on one knee next to his chair, cupped hands extended toward Derek.

It looks like a typical proposal pose.

“Stiles?” Derek asks, quietly. He slides off his chair and kneels next to Stiles, tugging at his shoulders. “Stiles, get up please.”

“Derek Hale,” Stiles says, refusing to move. “You are the light of my life, and not just because you flash a camera at me. You complete me in ways I didn’t know I needed.”

Derek sits back on his heels. Stiles is ready? He grabs Stiles’ hands and pries them open, staring down at the little Death Star box Stiles’ father made them when he found out about their relationship.

“Yes,” Derek whispers, interrupting Stiles in the middle of recounting how Derek eats pancakes (rolled into tubes with cheesecake filling inside—it’s his one treat a week) and how much Stiles loves his little quirks.

“Yes?” Stiles asks. He presses the weapons array and the box comes apart. Inside, nestled in traditional black velvet is a two-tone ring, gold edged with silver. “Yes?” Stiles asks again, removing the ring. Derek nods. He’s not a crier (hasn’t been since he was ten years old and Laura mocked him about the demise of his first camera) but he can feel (and see) the water rising in his eyes.

“Yes,” he repeats, throwing himself forward. Stiles barely catches him and the pieces of the Death Star clatter across the floor. Stiles laughs in his ear and slides the ring on his finger. Derek kisses him, forgetting for a moment that they have a large audience.

“I love you,” he says to Stiles.

“I know,” Stiles says back. “I love you too.”

The audience _aw_ s, and Derek freezes. “No, hey, it’s okay,” Stiles says, patting at him back. “It’s okay because I’m here and I love you.”

“I’m in the middle of an interview,” Derek whispers. He looks down at his mic and then at Erica.

She smiles. “One last important question, Derek,” she says. “Where will the honeymoon be?”

 

~ Fin ~

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if I missed any major tags. To me, this piece is one of the fluffiest (sweet, least angtsy, etc.) pieces I've ever written and I honestly don't know what to tag. If something bothers you, don't hesitate to let me know.


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